


The Frontline

by Apelpsia



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:08:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23233756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apelpsia/pseuds/Apelpsia
Summary: There’s more than one way to be a hero...
Kudos: 1





	The Frontline

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ruben102](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ruben102).



In the damp, musty field hospital, dozens of men and women lay on beds, healing from numerous injuries. Try as they might, this war was a tedious and most certainly, a costly one. One child and another man, his father, sat in a corner of a room, the sound of soldiers groaning in pain all around them.

The child was frightened by all this, however, he breathed in deeply and asked a small question. “Father, in every story, there’s a hero. Are there any heroes here, in this room?”

The father peered around the room for a moment, attempting to distinguish any familiar faces. All he saw were the same old ones, the ones that went into his care every other month or so. Of course, there were a few new faces, but that was to be expected as new bodies were required to fill the missing gaps of the men and women that died.

His eyes fell over the people in the room, until he found a person. He didn’t expect the man to be here, of all places. But then, no man was indestructible, no matter the myths or the legends. He gestured to his son, pointing at the man who lay healing in his cot. “There! You see that man? They call him the Bastion of Light, the Iron Wall!”

The child was in befuddlement at his father’s words, and asked a question to resolve the issue. “Father, what is a Bastion? And why is he a hero? Did he kill lots of enemies? Or did he assassinate enemy leaders? Or did he invent big weapons for our troops?” 

His father chuckled. He was mature for his age, yet his thinking still remained quite limited. “Allow me to enlighten you, child. A bastion is a fortification designed to keep enemies out and the troops within safe. Now, it is not so much the meaning as the context of the word which is so important. He didn’t slay the troops or kill them. While he did that, as any soldier should, most importantly, he paved the way for others to do so. He would wade into the forefront of the battle with his heavy shield and broadsword, keeping all those behind him safe. He would defend them, and they would defend him.”

The father’s eyes clouded over, as if he was reciting a long lost mythical bedtime story. “He was a tidal wave, unable to be stopped as he disrupted the enemy’s formation. He became even such a force that his mere presence on the field prompted a hasty retreat. One such brave, - or foolish, depending on your perspective, I suppose, - commander ordered his troops to attack the troops behind him and ignore him. What a terrible mistake, for even if he was ignored, he was still the formidable opponent. They were crushed that day. 

“Child, this man was, is a living legend, and he is proof that the most proficient killers do not deserve all the glory. He is well-respected, popular and supportive of the troops under his command, and his very presence commands respect and his voice rallies morale.” The father paused for a moment, breathing in deeply to regain his energy, for he had talked for quite the while.

He gestured to the man, who still lay resting in the cot, but he was sitting up and eating. He appeared to be recovering quite well, and so the father beckoned to his son to approach the man. The child shuffled his feet and swallowed. Gathering his nerve, he approached and greeted the man, a small quiver in his voice. “My name is Fang Rui, Mr. Bastion of Light.” He trailed off for a few moments, not knowing how to initiate a conversation with the man. “How’s your recovery, sir?”

The hulking man sat up, a wince of pain on his face as he did so and put the paper tray on the bedside table, turning to look at the small boy. “That is not my name, but no one knows my name now, so what does that change anything?” He chuckled. “Just call me Mister, okay kiddo? And as for your quest-“ He was interrupted by a nurse who whispered in his ear something and handed him a capsule of medicine and a cup of water.

He sighed and held up his hand. “Hold on, I have to take my medicson.” He chuckled at his poor joke, then looked at the child, who held a confused look on his face. He sighed again and downed the medicine in a single motion. “Poor kid, he didn’t get the joke. Ah well, another person comes and goes, I suppose.”

He noticed the child fidgeting, and then remembered. “Oh, sorry kiddo. My recovery’s going pretty well thank you very much. Why are you here? Surely you have other motivations than asking an old man how he’s been, don’t you?” He looked only to be in his early thirties, but a mischievous gleam in the man’s gaze assured the child that the man was in fact, not insane. The man’s eyes narrowed in suspicion for a moment. “You’re not from my wife, are you? I sent her a letter yesterday!” He sighed. His wife was beautiful and amazing but her worrying about him could get a little tiring sometimes. He smiled softly, and for a moment, he seemed a decade younger.

Poor Fang had no idea what the man was talking about and was simply terrified of the man, who seemed like he was about to blow up in anger. When the man smiled unexpectedly, he sighed in relief. You don’t behave like a normal man, and I don’t know if I like that. The child’s heart beat rapidly and he stuttered out a few words. “I-“ He swallowed for a moment. “I just wanted to g-get to know you…”

The man smiled for a moment. “Well, not many people do, so I guess you’re a bit different now, aren’t you? All they want to learn about is the great Bastion of Light and his great deeds and all that jazz.” He spoke in a sarcastic tone in the last sentence. “Well, let’s hope you have a sense of humor, or this conversation will be quite dry, if I do say so myself.”

They spoke in this fashion for quite a while and the little boy, found out that he was not a hero because of his feats and heroics, but because his personality radiated confidence and belief. He raised his troops morale to almost unbelievable levels. But the boy wasn’t interested in all that, he wanted to know about the man himself. “Before I go, what’s your name?”

The man looked at the kid with interested eyes. “My name? Haven’t heard that question in years, in fact I think only one person knows it at this point.” He smiled softly. He was a giant with a gentle heart, the child had found out. “Well, Fang Rui, my name is Ruben. Ruben Rose.”


End file.
